“Are you fucking out of your mind? I told you to take number nine, not six.”
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” Clayton snaps.
“It does say nine,” I yell, getting up, not bothering to wipe the dirt away.
He points to the kart, his nostrils flaring. “It’s a fucking six.”
Taking a look, the number attached to the top, on a metal board, says nine, but the number sprayed on the side, says six.
I grimace, shrugging. “Sorry?”
“Sorry? Sorry! It’s under repair for engine troubles. You could have gotten yourself killed,” he yells, throwing his hands up. “Do none of you listen?”
“Oh no,” I mutter as the sound of Dad’s maniacal laughter entwines with the roar of an engine.
I open my mouth to warn Stevens but think better of it. He could use it as a learning experience. Instead, I pull Clayton away from the bank.
Everything happens quickly. Dad speeds towards Stevens, and the minute he notices, he reacts, jerking back. He loses his footing, clearly not taking in how close he is to the hill, and falls, his arms flailing as he tries to save himself from embarrassment.
I tilt my head up to Clayton. “It’s time to leave.”
“Huh?”
“Just trust me,” I tell him. “Nothing good will come from this moment on. It’s better to get out while we can.”
“Alright,” he answers, grinning at me as he grips my hand. “Let’s rob his kart and get back to the entrance.”
Laughing, I nod. “You can buy me dinner for saving you.”
“Of course I will,” he mutters.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A cold breeze picks up my hair, blowing strands across my face. I’m glad now that I chose to have my hair wavy with a few plaits hidden throughout.
I can only be grateful it isn’t raining. I don’t want my thigh-high, suede boots getting ruined. Between my short, ripped, black skirt and the boots, I’m only revealing a small part of my thigh, so the cold isn’t touching me just yet.
I pull my jacket tighter across my body, covering my Guns n Roses T-shirt.
I’ve never felt so good with my choice of outfit. With a few bangles and a choker necklace, it feels complete.
The team Faith had hired were the best of the best. They had done wonders on us ladies. My make-up is flawless. After describing my outfit in detail to the make-up artist, she perfected my desired look, giving me smoky eye make-up, a shimmer to my cheeks and ruby red lips. I made sure to write down everything she used, though I don’t think I’ll get it to look as good as this. I’ll probably end up looking like a racoon.
There’s a bounce in my step as I meet up with the others waiting outside Mingles.
The guys are already waiting for us, and as the last two taxi’s pull in with the rest of the group, I’d say we’re the last to arrive.
The tension leaves my body when Clayton steps through the crowd. After deeming it safe, I had left him with the guys earlier so I could get back to the girls. It didn’t stop me worrying somewhat. It wasn’t that I doubted Clayton, especially after today, but I know my family. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, they can and will break you without using violence.
My lips pull up into a smile as I lift my hand, waving when he finally spots me. He stops in his tracks, nearly tripping over his feet, unable to peel his gaze away. He scans my body, starting low and building his way up, taking his time.
A low, pleasant hum warms my blood at his appraisal. After earlier, my hormones are all over the place, and right now, I don’t trust myself not to jump him. I saw a different side to him today, and it only made me want him more. It’s like a hunger.
“Nothing going on, my arse,” Dad mutters over my shoulder.
I glance behind me, arching my eyebrow. Before he can say anything else, Mum pulls him away.
“How did the rest of your day go?” I ask Clayton as he draws closer.
He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “I’m alive, so there’s that.”
“But?” I tease, knowing there is always a but when it comes to him
He gives me a lopsided grin. “You know me so well.”
“So?”
“I’m hungry,” he moans. “I could eat a cow right now.
“Did you not go with the rest of them to the restaurant? You were invited,” I remind him, worried he didn’t.
“Yes, Hayden, I did. Your dad is worse than you when it comes to food. How the hell does he stay in shape?”
“High metabolism and good genes,” I immediately answer, used to being asked the question. “What did he do?”
“Apart from scar me for life? You don’t want to know. It’s safe to say we won’t be allowed back during our time here.”
Which is what I was afraid would happen after this morning’s incident.
“We’re all here,” Charlotte announces, stepping up beside me.
We begin to head over to the entrance, when everyone suddenly stops, nearly causing me to walk into my aunt Denny.
“What the fuck is this place?” Mason growls, turning and sending an accusing gaze towards Clayton.
I take a peep around him to the entrance, my jaw dropping. Men and women exit and enter the large building, kitted out in black leather, collars and chains.
“Holy crap!” I whisper.
“What the fuck have you got my daughter into, Cross?” Dad snaps, his tone going high-pitched towards the end.
Clayton takes a step back as nearly everyone forms a group in front of us, aiming their angry glances at him.
He holds his hands up. “Don’t blame me for this.”
“You booked it,” I point out. “Why on earth would you bring us here?”
He sighs heavily, his eyebrows pinched together. “For the last time, I’m not an actual party planner.”
“You suck at it,” I admit, nodding.
“Why would you pretend to be one?” Dad accuses.
“Max,” Mum soothes.
“Ask your daughter.”
I shrug impishly. “Sorry?”
“Hey,” Faith interrupts softly. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done by doing this, but I really don’t want to go in there. You don’t mind, do you?”
“My girls aren’t stepping foot in there either,” Mason snaps.
The large bouncer manning the door steps up to the side of our group. “If you guys aren’t going in, I’m going to need you to move back and away from the doors.”
“What is going on in there?” Charlotte asks, her gaze shifting to the door.
“It’s BDSM night. They’re doing role play this week and selling sex toys,” he answers, running his gaze over Charlotte, licking his lips.
“Really?” Charlotte and I ask, both glancing back at the entrance.
“No!” Dad yells. “Over my dead body.”
Charlotte pouts. “But—”
“No, Charlotte,” Myles declares, red-faced.
The bouncer takes another look around our large group. “Barbra’s, around the corner, is having a drag night. Karaoke.”
“Yes.” Faith grins. “I love drag.”